Cherry Blossom Girls International

by Harmon Cooper

Ingrid came down the stairs wearing her pink missionary shirt too, her hair in a side ponytail, a backpack flung over her shoulder.

  “Grace? Chloe?” I asked, looking around.

  “Right here, Pastor,” Grace said as she came from the kitchen, looking sort of like a hot soccer mom. Her hair had blond highlights that were a bit washed out, and there were crow’s feet near her eyes, but other than that, she was all MILF in her form-fitting Manchester Missions shirt and a pair of yoga tights.

  Thank God for yoga tights.

  Really.

  “I’m here too,” Chloe said as she stepped out of the downstairs bathroom, also in her pink shirt, hers tied at the back to be just a bit tighter against her chest. She also wore a golden cross necklace that Clarence had let her borrow.

  “So this is the crew,” I said, turning to the door. “You ready to give us a ride to the airport, Clarence?”

  “Anything to help with the mission,” he said, keys in hand. “And make sure each of you takes a granola snack with you. I put the bags on the table.”

  Each of us, aside from Veronique, grabbed a bag and placed it in our carry-on luggage. The luggage varied, from a backpack to Chloe’s tote, but they would all do the trick.

  We would get new clothes in Japan; I’d read online that there were a ton of shopping districts and I’d personally shopped at the Uniqlo on Fifth Avenue, so I at least knew one Japanese brand.

  Hell yes.

  We piled into a minivan that we’d recently stolen fair and square, an upgraded number with an electric motor, suicide doors and self-driving capabilities. Who better but Neal Santana, the shady MercSecure exec responsible for buying our property under Grace’s persuasive power, to also gift us a “company vehicle?”

  So maybe “stolen fair and square” wasn’t the right term. Neal’s band of federally funded mercenaries known as MercSecure had made our lives difficult ever since they came after Grace in New Haven.

  This was more of a “just desserts” scenario.

  “Everyone buckled up?” Clarence asked, looking a little bit off kilter in his pink Manchester Missions shirt and thick beard. Grace was next to him, I was on the first bench back with Dorian and Veronique surrounding me. The other four were in the back.

  I gave Clarence the thumbs up.

  “You’ve got it, Pastor Edward.”

  We were just about to peel out when Father came around the house, his eyes orange as ever as he approached Veronique’s window.

  “Hi,” Veronique said as the window came down, which may have been one of the first times I’d ever seen the two interact. In fact, come to think of it, he rarely interacted with the CBGs, mostly keeping to himself, and talking to me if he had some concerns.

  “Good luck,” he told us, his orange eyes narrowing on my slowly transforming face.

  Like I said, I had been working on my shifter disguise all morning. Of course, I still had my same build, but I wanted something a little more American looking than the old man I normally played, maybe even a bit douchey, as if I’d done everything right in life and had said my bedtime prayers since I was old enough to formulate the words.

  After all, that’s the best way to instill unquestionable belief. Never give someone the chance or even the wherewithal to formulate the ability to question.

  So that’s what my current face was supposed to convey: blond hair with a peppering of white, blue eyes, no wrinkles of doubt on my brow, a little extra on my jowls. A life lived well yet hardly lived.

  “We won’t be long,” I told him.

  “Maybe you’re right, and maybe you’re wrong,” he said with a shake of his head. “I really can’t tell. But make sure you have a backup plan to get out.”

  “I’ve been looking into that,” said Dorian. “I have a route we could take. It would be… a bit exhausting, and maybe not so easy to get right, but we’ll go over it again and make sure it’s viable.”

  “What she said,” I told Father.

  “Damon Lord is capable of monstrous things, Gideon. You have already seen some of this play out.” With those words, the cabin grew silent, and I could almost feel Tulip wanting to come out of Ingrid.

  I even turned to look at her, to let her know that this would be okay.

  “We’ll be careful.”

  “Good. And again, good luck.”

  After that ominous departure, not a lot was said as we continued toward the airport.

  It hit me in that moment just how far away we were going. And while we weren’t technically safe here in America, it was even more dangerous for us in a foreign country, especially if we got separated. I had the most useful powers I could think of at the moment on deck, both of Grace’s, Jules’, and Father’s healing, as usual.

  It was kind of stupid, to think that we would end up in a fight somehow, but there really was no telling with this crew.

  And what a crew.

  As scary as it felt to be leaving America, I was also excited to leave my baggage behind me for a bit, to see how we got along in a new land. In America we were terrorists, enemies of the state, and there were people actively hunting us.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to think that Angel and his kin weren’t actively searching the country for us. Although they were pretty down at this point, and Mother had been broken, which could have had a variety of effects on Angel.

  There really was no telling.

  He would need some new team members, especially with the fact that Tulip had killed Olivia, the thicc gravity user. I was sure that there were other supers out there that were for his cause, there had to be, there had been a good many mutants created through AEFL’s sick program.

  But at least we were putting some distance between Angel and us. Time would not heal this wound, but separation would possibly stop it from festering.

  In an effort to knife the silence, Clarence turned on the radio, which Grace quickly turned off.

  “It’s This American Life, I’m Ira Glass,” she started to say, still in her good Christian woman look, but now using Ira Glass’ voice. “Each week we check in with Gideon Caldwell and the Cherry Blossom Girls to get an update on their grand adventure, and what they are planning next.”

  “Hi, Ira,” I said.

  Michelle snickered from behind me. “Hey, Ira!”

  “So you are taking a vacation, I see,” said Grace as Ira.

  “Something like that.”

  “To the mysterious land known as Japan, home of anime.”

  “Japan has more than just anime…” I started to tell her.

  “Home of anime and hentai!”

  Clarence snorted at what Grace-as-Ira had said.

  “Let’s change the subject…”

  “Yes, there are lots of perverts in Japan,” Grace-as-Ira said, “but that’s okay, the CBGs will be there through Manchester Ministries. They will tame their wild urges and show them the light of Jesus.”

  “Let’s just show them the light,” Ingrid chimed in, not quite as enthusiastically as Michelle, but Grace’s impersonation was definitely lightening the mood a bit.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I told the group, “we’re in Japan to spread word of the good Lord, hopefully in the process, we will find… Well, a man named Damon Lord. No relation.”

  “Ira, what kind of food do they have in Japan?” Chloe asked, playing along.

  “I can answer that,” said Clarence. “Sushi. You guys are going to eat so much sushi. They have other stuff too, but that’s what is most famous here in America.”

  “Ramen, sushi, some other stuff…” I thought about it for a moment. Aside from sushi and ramen, I really didn’t know what types of food they had in Japan. I’d seen a bunch of food in animes, and ate with my ex at a Japanese place a few years back on State Street, but that was about it, and that place closed not long after we visited anyway.

  “I bet they have fruit,” said Michelle. “Weird fruits that we don’t have here in America.”

  “What makes you think that?” V
eronique asked.

  “I don’t know. It just sounds like a place that would have fruit. Japanese apple. Japanese pear. Japanese banana.”

  “We will have to visit a grocery store and see,” I said.

  “I really wish I was going with you guys,” Clarence said, biting his lip as he looked at the road. As we got closer to Denver, the lanes had started to expand, the traffic increasing. “Who is going to cook for you? Who is going to make sure that the CBGs have a quality diet?”

  “I was cooking for them long before you came along,” I said with faux confidence. “I will take the wheel again if I have to.”

  “No offense, Gideon, but your food kind of sucks. We mostly just ate pizza.”

  “Thanks, Michelle, let’s keep it positive, though. Remember, we’re on a mission, literally!” I said turning to her, and pointing at my shirt.

  “But I like pizza, so that was okay. I guess you did make us breakfast too.”

  “One of us should probably learn how to cook,” said Dorian. “Someone other than me. Sorry. I am too impatient to cook.”

  “You don’t seem that impatient.”

  I imagined a teleporter in the kitchen, zipping around cooking multiple things at once. Actually, that was sort of a stupid vision, but I stuck with it, and expanded the size of my mental kitchen, which made more sense somehow.

  “I will be the team chef,” Michelle declared. “I am always in the kitchen with Clarence helping him, right?”

  “That’s right,” Clarence said. “Michelle is very helpful.”

  “See?”

  “Okay, well, we will probably eat out a bunch in Japan,” I said, “but if we get to a point where we are actually able to cook food, then we will go from there.”

  Clarence looked at me in the rearview mirror. “How long do you think you will be?”

  “We have to follow this lead that we have, about Damon Lord living in Setagaya, which is apparently a neighborhood outside of Shibuya. From there, I don’t know. We will be in communication with Father over email, as usual. But I don’t expect we will be gone for very long.”

  Now would have been the point where someone should have said, “famous last words,” but we really were playing this by ear, and our Asian excursion was too new and fresh on our minds to get a sense of how long it would last.

  Eventually, we came to a statue of a blue horse with glowing eyes, which everyone in the van seemed to enjoy. From there, we reached the airport, Clarence pulling up to the American Delta Airlines drop-off point, a tear in his eyes he tried to help us unload, only to realize that we each only carried a backpack.

  “Okay, stay safe, and I’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” he said, his hands on his hips. “I really wish I could make this trip with you all.”

  “It won’t be long,” Chloe told him, her throat glowing ever so slightly. Clarence’s tears dried up as a smile returned to his face.

  “You’re right, I’ll see you guys soon.”

  What was most important at first was to actually secure ourselves a place on the plane, which would be difficult considering the size of our small group. With eight of us, we would have to adjust the seating arrangement, which was what we did when we went to the American Delta Airlines kiosk to “check in.”

  Grace at the wheel, we managed to secure eight seats in business class by moving other people off the flight. Not too shabby, and Grace even offered a first-class seat to me, but I wanted to be part of the group, and besides, what kind of missionary rode around in first-class? Business class sort of made sense, especially if we had a wealthy flock back at the church.

  But first-class? No, and I didn’t want to raise suspicion.

  And with that, and our tickets in hand, we headed to the security checkpoint. It was sort of funny seeing the blank expressions on the TSA dudes’ faces as our backpacks went through the scanner.

  And while the line was long, of course we were able to go through the priority lane, which meant we didn’t need to risk someone giving us a second glance, or having an encounter with one of the CBGs.

  Everything was going smoothly, and we even took our time to get to our gate, Michelle “purchasing” a pink Denver ballcap along the way.

  “How long until our plane leaves?” she asked as we approached our gate.

  “Great question, Mary.” I pointed at the flat screen above the gate’s main kiosk. “Do you see that?”

  “Oh, I see it now,” she said, noticing the time.

  “All of them are like that, and there’s also those screens over there,” I told her, referring to the large flat screen panels attached to a wall that showed all the arrival and departure flights, a few travelers gathered around.

  “Where do I get one of these neck pillows?” she asked as a woman passed, the comfy pillow wrapped around her neck.

  “You should have gotten one back when you purchased the hat,” I started to tell her.

  “I didn’t purchase the hat, Grace did. I mean, Jill did. Your wife is really nice,” Michelle said in an exaggerated way, hoping that the teen passing next to her would hear. “I mean, my mom is really nice. Shit! I keep fucking this up.”

  “She sure is,” I said as Grace came to me. “And please, Mary, watch your language.”

  “Is anyone hungry?” the psychic shifter asked the group. All except Michelle had taken a seat, Grace naturally moving everyone who had been sitting there before out of the way.

  “I am,” said Dorian.

  “Same,” said Ingrid.

  “I could eat,” said Chloe.

  “Unless you have a person for me, no,” Veronique said in a flat tone.

  “Great.” Grace turned to a man in a Dell Computers shirt who stood near us, his hands on his backpack, a beanie on his head. With one look, he stepped away, returning about ten minutes later with at least a hundred bucks worth of snacks.

  “A bit much, Jill,” I told Grace.

  “Everyone needs to eat,” she reminded me. They were about to board the plane now, and we had priority seating, so we were first up. “And don’t forget: you, me, mile high club,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  Again, no hiccups.

  We boarded as normal, our tickets scanned as normal, we found our seats just like anyone else boarding a plane.

  Everything was as it should be.

  Since we were in business class, we were shuffled into rows of two seats rather than rows of three, which meant none of us would have to suffer the crappy middle seat assignment. Veronique and Ingrid were in front of Grace and me, Stella and Michelle were in front of Chloe and Dorian.

  I was on the aisle seat, Chloe to my right, and it didn’t take long for everyone else to board the plane.

  Lots of Japanese people too, the women looking cute as ever in their interesting clothing. I didn’t really know quite how to describe Japanese youth fashion. There was the preppy side of things, women wearing skirts and blouses, but there was also some radical clothing as well.

  Hip-hop, indie rock, hipster styles—some of the people my age and younger had more style than they possibly had sense. Like the girl in John Lennon sunglasses and purple NYU hat with an extra-large T-shirt on her thin body that had slits cut under the arm, revealing a neon bra underneath.

  You want me to dress like that for you? Grace’s voice appeared in my head, instantly eliciting a smile on my face.

  No, it’s just interesting.

  You know I love the cosplay…

  I am well aware.

  How do you want me to dress later when we have a little airplane fun? Would you like me to dress as a flight attendant?

  Just be yourself.

  Poo… you always say that…

  Michelle peeked up from her seat and looked back at me once the flight attendant came out, going over the safety protocols. She smiled, her pink Denver hat pressed over her brow.

  I gave her a thumbs up; she gave me a thumbs up back, I gave her a nod, she
nodded back. I looked away, but I looked back, she looked back and then pretended to look away again.

  “Michelle’s playing with me,” I said under my breath.

  “Don’t worry, I will put her to sleep as soon as the flight takes off,” said Chloe. Next to her, Dorian looked through one of the in-flight magazines, completely ignoring the flight attendant.

  The plane started to taxi, and I felt a quiver in my heart as we got into the take-off position. Flying wasn’t something that normally bothered me, but take-off always, well, took me off guard.

  I didn’t like watching it happen, I didn’t like the feeling of gravity in my chest, nor the sounds of the wheels being retracted back into the plane, or the initial turbulence.

  None of it.

  I especially didn’t like the wait in line on the runway.

  It was much nicer just to back away from the gate to get going, but some airports, especially larger ones, had a long wait to actually take off. This made me miss the airport back in Hartford, a quaint Connecticut airport that rarely had long waits, aside from when the planes needed to be de-iced.

  Another ten minutes and I could see that we were finally getting to position, a bell dinging and reminding the flight attendants to take their seats.

  “Here we go,” I said under my breath and Grace reached for my hand.

  I smiled over at her, wishing in that moment that she was in her natural form for just a second, not this caricature she had taken on.

  And of course she started to morph, stopping for just a few seconds and returning to her current disguise.

  But it was a distraction I needed.

  The wheels left the runway and we were airborne, heading toward the Land of the Rising Sun, our plan actually going smoothly for once.

  I almost wanted to pinch myself.

  Since when did a plan we came up with actually go smoothly?

  We eventually reached our cruising altitude, as indicated by the captain, a female with a deep voice.

  I heard seatbelts unclicking, people getting more comfortable, a few already on their way to the restrooms in the back.

  Veronique sat in front of Grace, and I could see that she had already found something interesting to watch on the flat screen built into the headrest. It was a documentary of sorts on architectural design, the host a tan man with a shaved head going through villas in Spain.